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Blue Flask Mar 2019
There was a girl
A sad girl
With hair like untamed ebony
And eyes like tombstones and the universe
The type of girl that looks at you from under her untamed coal field
And smiles a beautiful thing
A ceramic smile
Soon to be stained by to much coffee
To much rot gut *****
The type of girl that sits naked in the dark
In a bathtub full of scalding water
The type of girl that fills subway cars full of poetry and lavender
Sitting bundled up in too many layers of clothing for this hot hot summer
The type of girl that works the nightshirt at a Walmart stocking shelves
And spends her breaks writing down story ideas in her journal
Stories about a funny girl
With clipped brown hair

One day while filling the shelves with organic caged beef
She remembers she left the journal out in the break room
And she rushes back to grab it
And stops dead in the doorway
Because someone is reading her words
And she begins to panic
And she begins to panic because the  person who is reading the worlds she has spent months scrawling
is a normal boy
The type of boy who smiles awkwardly at the red eyes she wears like a bandage leaving the bathroom
A boy whose smile is clean and whose eyes are clear
Like a watering hole fed by mountain water in the early early spring
The type of boy that knows she’s a freak and she wants so
so desperately for him to tell her that
So that he stops flashing that sliver of a monochrome crescent moon
So that he stops giving her hope that she can be anything other than that sad sad girl writing stories in the break room

One night she is cutting boxes
Her sleeves rolled up, in one of those phasic moods where she doesn’t care who sees the angry red lines crossing her arms
A scarred ladder leading to unsteady hands
She puts a new blade in and jabs it into the clean side of a box
But the blade doesn’t glide through the smooth brown skin
But the blade gets caught in the gnarled fibers
But the blade is new and the feeling of gliding through the perfect side is taken from her
And she pulls her arms hard while thinking about the girl with chestnut hair
The girl who had shared a box of wine with her last night
She looks down on the floor and sees a growing pile of red wine
And she falls
And people are screaming
And she looks down and sees the blade sticking out of her wrist
And she’s speaking calmly that it was an accident, she didn’t mean it this time
Her manager is on the phone with the ambulance and the janitor is glaring in the doorway
Forever trying to figure out how to get blood stains out from the stockroom floor
And the last thing she sees in the cacophony of chaos is the normal boy
And the grimace of fear forever plastered on his face in her fading memory

She wakes up in the hospital where people visit her like a sandstorm
And doctors come and speak to their clipboards
One day the girl with chestnut hair comes
And no words are said
Just feelings screamed into the oblivion between them
And she knew that was the last time the funny girl would ever visit
Weeks pass, and one day the doctor comes in and says to his clipboard
Insurance ran out, so you are all better now
Even though she doesn’t feel better

It starts with a fifth of ***** after you come back to your empty two-person apartment
Then a handful of pills
Than more cigarettes than your lungs can handle
This slow self destruction culminates when she goes out on her balcony
And sees her neighbor smoking a cigarette next door to her
And he just smiles and says
It never gets easier kid
He flicks the end of his cigarette after taking a deep breath
And the girl with eyes like tombstones and the universe
Watched the cherry red spark fall
As smoke filled the stars in front of her
The man chuckled
But it’ll all be alright
And the girl that with hair blacker than a crow
Nodded into the starry sky
  Feb 2019 Blue Flask
Middle Class
It’s as simple as it seems
The strings and the strands
How can it be undone

Bounce like the rain

It’s a monolith if it stands
An insurmountable summit
How can it balance

Preach like a wave


It’s genuine aspartame
The warm hollow
But I’ve read the label

Stammer like a-
Blue Flask Jan 2019
Words are lodged into the murky water of my mind
Pearls of meaning in the sandy beaches of the pineal gland
Like warm court proceedings
Is this fair? Right?
Did you know that some people
Aren’t groovily depressed
They can leave their rooms
Be real toothed cogs in society
I’m a toothless gear
Spinning with nothing to grip
Spinning my tires in black ice
Freezing in the fields
All I hope for
Is that next years crops use this dead meat
To make something beautiful
Something that can grow
Merry
Something that can live up live up live up
To the things it wants to say
My motif is a sown mouth
With spiders thread
Blue Flask Oct 2018
It’s a blank white slate with the entirety of human achievement inside of it
A way to talk to billions, to drown myself in enough entertainment to make me sick
It’s an echo chamber
It’s an echo chamber
Each night I scream into these walls
Beating myself into a vagus nerve induced frenzy
Slap these thighs and pull out wiry hair
Snap my fingers, my rough knuckles dancing as blows rain down
Like so many rainy days locked away
Seething meat blasted into oblivion
Because you have to do it don’t you?
Despite all the words
All the reassurances that you aren’t a liar
You want to do it
You want to think you want to do it
You are so confused
Cut the meat
Punch the beef
It’s an echo chamber
With occasional melodies belting out from underneath the door frame
Little moments when you collapse
No beauty in the death of the ugly ways
A cracked ceramic mask
Made by a kindergartner
Because I never learned how to paint my face
I never learned any language other than man
It’s not a matter of how I feel
It’s a matter of can I always feel this way
It’s a matter of whether or not I’m still riding on the echoes of a voice that only brings to mind the haziest of memories
It’s a matter of who looks back at me in this prison, this room
Who will greet me in my nightmares tonight?
Who will look back at me in the mirror?
When did those stop being two sides of the same coin?
I pound and beat and mash pale flesh against the steamed surface
Please, take me out of this two way hell
This two time place
Blue Flask Jul 2018
I am an empty wasteland
Studded with stained remnants of coffee cups
Papers are strewn about, telling stories about people
Who will never exist.
They seem so much more real than I have ever been
Musky clothes line the floor sending unseen spores deep
Into the lining of my lungs
I am one with where I am
Food and pills surround every speckle of surface
A myriad of tye dye colors
How much happiness can they fit inside a pill?
books and posters leave plastered imprints on the walls
Anything to show that this isn’t all there is
To a life that was never worth it to you

I am a bleeding liver
Half guzzled liquor
Spilled into cracked cups creates scummy films
Rainbow reflections of light from vertical screens
How’s that for a pride display?
In the rainbow of puddles
A failed education fills a shelf
Reading is so far beyond
Me
A fan buzzes in my ear
An angry bee that pounds thousand ***** to keep me cool

I am a furnace
That burns paper ideologies
Nothing here is permeant
Real is just a concept
Gallons of water to satiate an always parched throat
Diluted blood fills these veins
A slow death from oxygen deprivation
With no belt around the neck

I am a fetid corpse
That can still move
Still think
Still spew methane
Use a screen to reach out
Talk to a thousand other blank eyed, slack jawed clones
What does it mean, these words on a white background
Are you the reaper?
The coroner?
I’m breathing
I’m sweating
I’m *******
I’m not living
Air fills these two sacks
Red sewage is pumped into grey hands
A jolt down the spine
Is all I am
What am I?
I am a medicated pig
I am an artist failed dream
I am a cloud, high and falling constantly down
I am a camera, only able to record, but never interpret
I am
I am
For a friend who will always be close
Blue Flask Mar 2018
Freezing warmth
Radiates from a frigid
Rancid heat
Fearing a hot tubs
Final goodbye
Fetid whispers into the fallapon nights
Please
Please don't go
Feel cheap beer slide down
Your rapidly fanatical throat
Feigned cries of the frozen man
Echo in the night
Fostered cares of the forlorn it
Frantic jokes told
In the same fervent pitch of a
Forlorned lover screaming
Always screaming
Why is the ******* failure always screaming
  Mar 2018 Blue Flask
Pea
id rather have they caught me crying
than eating
in my car, broad daylight, at the jam-packed parking lot
i think i shoulda expected
maybe im just asking for it

no, im craving

for this hellhole id do anything
why would i want to escape
when all i do is chasing?

this body again, i ask
if they have more hatred for me
ive used mine up
my glass is broken but at least its full
many thanks to the world

i know no time
for me its always the same
over and over again

if i had different body would i be wanted?
if i had different mind would i be adored?
if my hands werent my own would you take it?

some days i wake up dying
the rest i dont
why am i still alive, it doesnt make sense
i hope youll understand
but no
no
i didnt say no
If this was life id rather rot
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